Gold and Green: the Topsy Turvy Life
by Nutcase friend
Summary: The tale of how a talented Clopin, King of Truands, at eighteen years old, finds a feisty Esmeralda and immediately sees the value in her rare green eyes. With Frollo making it harder to live, their bond grows strong in hardship. Just a feel good story. No romance between them. Rated M because of scenes between Clopin and an OC. May be blood too. I'ma pretty harsh writer.
1. Chapter 1

_Hey guys. have recently become obsessed with Clopin from Hunchback of Notre Dame (Dinsey movie version), because not only is he hot and awesome but also one of the most interesting chaotic good characters of all time. So here's a story of how this twisted jester found and raised the little Esmeralda to be his most useful dancer, and most loyal friend. Clopin and esmeralda (along with a few others like Djali) are not my characters, they belong to disney, and the author of the original book. but my OC's are mine thanks._

* * *

It was only once a year that his people could come out onto the slippery stones of the streets of Paris without fear of being arrested, or scorned, or chased away from shop corners. This day was the only day his people could walk _free._ The guards were there to keep order, but none could raise a hand against the Gypsies without reason like they did on any other day, nor could they try capture the women or frighten the children who wore the gold painted earrings and bright, patched together frocks. Confetti would dance and swirl with the skirts of performing ladies and billow out the air of the instruments. 364 days they waited for this, one, day. And it was approaching soon enough.

But right back to their court of miracles they would have to jump, as soon as the sun started to rise on the following day.  
Clopin Trouillefou sighed as his fingers found another moth-eaten hole in his favourite jester cloak, and he frowned when he saw a bell missing as well. He sat on one of the stools in his tent, his shoulders slumped. A bleat beside him made him turn his head, and he rubbed the head of the small baby goat that had flicked the tent door aside.

"Oh dear Djali. Frollo's making it harder every year for us." He scratched the pleasant kid behind the ear, and managed a smile to himself. One of the acrobat's children had taken the abandoned baby goat from a grumpy seller, and skilfully snuggled it below. When one of the women suggested they fatten it for eating, the child, dear little Aceline, had screeched a defined 'no', and ran off among the catacombs. Clopin had finally found her huddled with the fluffy creature amidst the bones, after scrambling through the tunnels close on three hours.

She had grudgingly let him sit with her, to pat the little weakened goat.  
 _  
"Maybe you can teach him to dance."_ He had said, thinking it wouldn't be such a bad idea.

And here the creature still dwelled with them, a part of Clopin's outcast colourful crew.

"I'll have to ask Bernadina to patch my cloak, god help me how she might react." He said to the goat, who only bleated for more pats. He rubbed its head affectionately, then stood again to search for a shirt, and made his way out, bringing his customary smile up again. Other smiles met him when he exited his tent, the tick-tacking of Djali's cloven hooves behind him. One of the muscle men was drying up some more of the puddles where the heavy rains had dripped through the ground above their head.

"Clopin," the muscle man called.

"Bellamy!" he replied, and cartwheeled over. It was important to use one's skills in everyday life, to keep them fresh. "Let me help you."

"It's fine now, that's the last of it, but we're running out of cloth for it." The big man replied in his gorgeously deep voice.

"Shhhhh," Clopin hushed harshly, looking around. "You can't let the children know of the trouble. But after the festival, we'll be eating better than princes." He winked for extra effect.

"That's a week away, and a few short months is all we'll have of luxury, you know that." Bellamy replied, ignoring the usually-effective charm. "And it's getting worse.  
That accursed Frollo is going to starve us to death."

"He's going to _try_ , but if anyone can conjure up food out of nowhere, it's us." Clopin patted him on the shoulder and strolled away, his cloak over his shoulder, making his way to Bernadina's stall. He could hear her yelling at children from here, and had to dance his thin legs away as they ran his way, escaping her wrath while laughing.

He shook his head fondly as they slipped behind more stalls, Djali chasing after them playfully.  
When he reached her stall, she was scolding one of her older daughters.

"You're holding the needle wrong girl! You keep doing that and you'll prick yourself bloody." She was standing over the girl who sat on a makeshift stool on a wooden plank, away from the dampness of the floor. The girl mumbled an apology, then adjusted her handle of the needle.

"You should enter as the monster for the festival Madame Bernadina, is you keep grouching to her the way you are." Clopin joked, and smiled kindly at the poor girl. Her hair was black and straight, and she was such a beauty. She had avoided her mother's hag like appearance, god-bless whoever her father was. The girl timidly smiled back, and tried again at the needle work.

Bernadina however, turned on him like a bar-owner.

"And what do you want, our spindly king?" she said, strangely delicate hands placed on her wide hips.

Clopin lowered his voice and glanced around nervously. "I've got a few bronze if you can see to my favourite cloak." He held out the gold satin cloth delicately.

She grabbed at it, though tenderly. "You've had this thing repaired so many times, I should better well make you a new one."

"No, please." He said hastily. He very much loved that cloak. "Just another repair, and I'll even tire the little ones out."

"I would love a decent sleep tonight. Almost everyone has asked for repairs, and old bastard Absolon had the stupidity to ask me for a new red-velvet shirt. Puh!" She inspected the spot of a missing bell. "I suppose you want that fixed too."

"What a bell of an idea, but no." Clopin chuckled at his own joke, then continued "I'll have one of our jewellers see to that little piece. But you're my trusted cloth-fixer and I'm leaving it to you. Along with these." He held out his hand containing the last of his Bronze coins. She took them, and said,

"And the little ones?" with a raised eyebrow.

"Leave them to me." He chuckled.

* * *

It was only minutes later when squeals and laughter could be heard as Clopin dragged out one of his largest puppets, a green dragon. He had grabbed one of the young men to be the night in shining armour, shoved a golden wig on his head and a wooden sword in his hand. They clashed and danced around stalls and Gypsy tents, the children following eagerly. Mothers and fathers, performers and sellers and traders, would stop and watch for a few moments, as the small group of children turned into a whole mob of all the Gypsy born children following, joining in, and dancing to all the best knight songs that Clopin conjured from memory.

"And here our prince,

tired, hurt, and his horse's tail singed,

can only do what prince's do best,

and put that dragon right to rest!"

"A sure swing and the blade goes in,

on our Valliant's face a triumphant grin,

and rolls away the forked tongue head,

where there the dragon, lays, deeeeeeeeeaaaaaaad!" Clopin dragged out the last syllable, and slowly lowered himself and his puppet to the ground below, closing his eyes to pretend to be dead.

it was easy after that. The children all wanted turns at being the dragon and being the prince, and even added princesses and warlocks and fairies to the story. Clopin played a damsel in distress for one scene, then the twisted evil witch in another. Soon all the children were soiled, ragged, and so was he.  
it was hours before the children finally calmed down, and only the most energetic could continue, while the rest became the audience, Clopin included.

They had all gone 'awwwww' when he sat upon the stone, at which he had laughed. "I need to save my strength, little ones, for it is no use being a king if you're tired all the time."

"But you're not a real king." One of the young boys piped up, resting against Clopin's thin leg, who picked up the morsel of a moral, and placed him in his lap with a smile.

"No. Real kings have enough to eat, and they're born into it. We choose our own kind here."

"How long will you be king Clopin? You're only eighteen." a little girl asked, a strange beauty in their world. She had deep blue eyes, instead of deep brown like most of the others. He himself had the blackest of browns, which had earned him a good night with the occasional beauty who admired the colour. One had described that they shined like the night sky.

He shrugged his reply at the girl. "We never know. I just have to do what I can do, and if it starts to displease my people, I lose the title." He placed a deft-fingered hand on top of her head fondly.

"Is there ever a Queen of Truands?" another girl asked, even younger than the last. He picked her up and placed the small thing in the crook of his elbow easily.

"There has been a few. Let's see, there has been Ada, who was the most wonderful Contortionist we ever had! She could bend into a box, and spring out at intruders.

She could bend through bars and free our trapped people. There was Fabienne, who had fingers so deft it seemed food was simply spring from them…"

And he relayed all the most loved kings and queens of the Truands, the Gypsies, the motley folk of Paris.

By the end of the tales, he had most of them yawning and their eyes drooping. He himself was trying not to tire, but lowered his voice more and more, to lull them.

Guardians and older siblings and parents started appearing from the main area of the Gypsy camp, and leading young ones away by the hand, or taking the sleeping ones away in their arms.

When the last of them had gone, it must have been well into the night. Clopin gave a yawn and a stretch where he sat, and leaned back against the cold wall, smiling widely at a cracked skull that sat nearby. Every single one of those kids was going to be of use to their troupe, he could tell. Little Pomeroy could already juggle five balls, and he was barely eleven, and darling Hetty was twisting herself from cages and boxes, let alone her older-sister's arms. Children were their hope, and learned quickly that you had to find a skill or starve.

* * *

He must have dozed off there against the stone wall, because he was softly awoken by one of the girls his own age, who loved his company in many forms. Shining Suzette, her nickname, because of her skill with jewellery. Her father had made the lovely gold hoop earring that Clopin obsessively wore. It was simple, but important to his look, but Suzette could make the most delicate of things. She gently rubbed the earring now, looking thoughtful, and not the right kind. He smiled at her and pulled her down to lay with him.

"You look worried." He said, running a hand through her hair tenderly.

"I am worried." She said. "We're running out of materials, and our usual seller denied us today."

"What!?" Clopin gasped. That hadn't happened in years and years, to the jewellers anyway. They were the best treated among the normal people of France and other parts of Europe out of all the Gypsy people, because their travelling meant they had skills from all over the world that few other jewellers possessed. Dancers could be taught anything from anywhere, but learning how to perfectly place a rare stone inside a rare metal was not so easily sought.

She nodded, and put her face softly to his chest. "Old bastard. Said he needed the extra for another purpose. God knows what he meant by _that._ " She looked up at him with a pout of concern. "Are you okay Clopin? Your heart is hammering."

And indeed it was. He could feel it in his chest and throat. _The jeweller denied? I would understand our cloth sellers, or mask makers, but this! What does this mean for the rest of us!?_

The Feast of Fools was a week away, and it was looking like they'd have less jewellery than usual, and he had no idea what that would mean for the rest of the makers of the Gypsy crew. Performers would survive, that was for certain. They were different. But…

Clopin rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Oh dear Suzette what could this be the start of, or even worse, the end?"

"We're just one stall. It's not the end of anything." She sounded so certain. That was a wonderful thing about her, she could never waver, in hand or mind.

"I don't want to see you go hungry." He said with a tired and unconvincing laugh.

"We never do. We'll make enough money to survive." Again, her tone started to relax him, but he couldn't help feel the doubt in the back of his mind.

"Do you have anyone else who will sell it to you?" he asked. Her face scrunched up in thought, and he noticed how gorgeous the sight was. Other men would scorn the idea of a woman having thoughts, but not a gypsy, _especially_ not Clopin.

"A man in the next town over. Its two days there and back, on foot."

"We'll go in the morning." He told her.

"What? Clopin no! We'll be fine. The road is dangerous and there's still heavy storms coming through. It's worse being a sick jeweller who can't work, than a jeweller without metal to work with."

"What's the difference!? I'll go with your father and a few others, and you stay here and keep making whatever you can. Take my earring if you need to."

She looked at him aghast. "Never! That was a gift to you from my father and I'm not going to treat it like scrap metal. If you're so set on going, then at least be safe."

She whispered the last part, avoiding his eyes.

"Me? Safe!? Wherever did you get an idea like that. Frollo has been searching for this place for years, and before him was the other Priests or knights or captain of guards wanting to earn a pretty favour. Men like me my dear, are never safe." He laughed.

She looked away even further, and his devilish grin started to fall. He gently placed a finger beneath her chin and tilted her head his way.

"But if it makes you feel any better, I'll try to keep out of trouble for you."

She smiled, and he kissed her softly. It wasn't the first time he'd kissed her, and to his hope it wouldn't be the last. She was one of a kind.

She kissed him back, and kissed him again and again until they drifted to sleep, not bothered by the lack of a sleeping mat. She was warm and he was comfortable enough. As a Gypsy, you got used to the rough life.


	2. Chapter 2 Warm, then cold, then warm

_Hey, hope you guys are enjoying this so far. I really hope I'm getting Clopin's character right, well at least enough to be good enough to read. Remember, Oc's are mine, but the rest belong to Disney and the author of the original book.  
_

* * *

He woke with Suzette still curled against him, her gorgeous form pressing into his, and he couldn't help fantasize a little about their past times together, in the exciting nights when her father wouldn't notice her gone, and no one would suspect the disappearance of her innocence. Some of the girls were desperate to grab at his attention, and at something else for that matter, but she had been such a _tease_. In fact, he hadn't dared going after her for a long while, but she was such a tempting prize. Eventually he had coaxed her into his life and maybe even into his heart, where she sat comfortably.

She was so close to his heart even now, her face tucked beneath his thin chin. Her breath was tingling his neck and sending the blood from his heart to a suspiciously less innocent place. He mentally grumbled at himself. Today would be the day he tried to save her stall from ruin, he would have to wait for her thanks until after he'd succeeded. And he wouldn't ask for it. He wasn't that kind of man.

He gave her a tender kiss on the head, then lifted her with him as he stood. She mumbled in her sleep as he carried her in the early morning back to her tent. He may have been a spindly build, but he had an acrobat's strength. He had often been teased by the other Gypsy children because of his lack of flesh when he was young, but he was the one laughing now. King of Truands. What a noble title it was.

There was a few Traders and performers already out, practising or creating prize items for the Feast of Fools, Suzette's father included. The man was tall and lean and a mean looking machine. His eyes changed like the metal he worked with, cold to hot, warm to cool. For a moment as he saw Clopin with Suzette, they burned like solder.

"So _you're_ the one who kept her hidden away all night." He growled, turning his back on Clopin and going back to his work. The athletic king was never sure what Suzette's father, Mailhairer, felt for him, content or contempt.

"What can I say? I'm a hoarder and she's a prize." He replied, pushing Suzette's tent flap away and carried her inside, approaching her bed which he had sneakily shared with her some nights, with some stolen wine and well-earned bread. One day she'd had enough money to buy grapes, and that night had been wonderful, for he was the first one she shared them with.

It was only a small mattress stuffed with goose feathers, covered in blankets and pillows and cloths in a pile. All different colours, but they all smelt like her, which was a pleasing sent to him, and it's tossed-around design was comfortable, especially with her next to him when he had the occasion to lay in it.

He placed her in that same bed now, noticing one of his old bandana's half-tucked beneath her favourite pillow.  
 _  
I wonder how long she's had that,_ he thought with a smile.

He removed his arms from beneath her, and watched with a calm, tender smile as she shifted herself to get comfortable, sighing happily as she did so. He couldn't help but lean forward and kiss gently at her neck, feeling the warmth and softness of her skin. From memory, he could have traced her stretch marks on her hips with his tongue, but he ignored the thought and stayed safely at her neck. The more he did it however, the harder it was to pull away. He soon found one of his bare hands had started gripping her clothed waist and the other was tucked underneath her head, his thumb brushing back and forth across her cheek bone. Clopin heard her giggle in a whisper.

"My father is going to kill you if he found you like this." She whispered, clearly still half asleep. She didn't bother opening her eyes. His grip on her head and waist grew stronger as he pressed his face into her chest and sighed.

"I think I'm finding myself be more and more fond of you, my Shining, Shimmering, Stunning Suzette." He said. He was suddenly so aware of how chilly it was on bits of his bare legs without her warmth radiating onto them.

"Be careful, Clopin, it sounds something like _affection_ you're speaking of." She replied with a sly smile, and opened her eyes just in time to see his face get close until his lips slipped against hers, and he wrapped his arms around her determinedly. She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. He was kneeling next to her low bed, his thin, lean torso bent over her and his fingers in her hair.

He pulled away before he lost himself in her like he had before. He needed to help his people today, and spending all day trailing his fingers over her bare skin and making her shudder like he loved doing, was not going to get them anywhere.

"I need to go be a hero, my darling."

"You're not the hero type." She laughed.  
And even as he left her tent and made plans with Mailhairer, and gathered some supplies and a disguise for the trip, he couldn't help but think that she was utterly right.

* * *

He tucked the last bit of bread into a ruck-sack and slung it over his shoulder, while humming a tune. He was wearing a simple brown pair of trousers, boots, a faded green shirt with a faded blue long cloak over the top, and a peasant's hat. It was not safe for a performer such as himself to travel with his usual clothing when he has so little of his people with him. If it was a larger group, they'd be left in peace for the most part. But with three of them? Normal laws did not protect folk that travelled like themselves. In the most off season, his people would travel to other town and villagers to do performances during festival days, and return to the Court of Miracles when they had nowhere else to go.

And if their possessions got stolen? Or their carts ransacked? Or their women taken by thugs or guards for their own pleasure? There was very little they could do about it. They, in the eyes of the law, were not permanent residents anywhere so they could not be protected by the court of justice. So Clopin and his travelling companions had to be in disguise, but that also meant trying to hide their earrings which are the thing that mostly gave them away. That, and they all had black hair and eyes with tanned skin. It would be difficult, but not impossible.

He adjusted the flat-hat, then strolled his way towards where Mailhairer and Bellamy were waiting. Mailhairer's costume was even more convincing than Clopin's, for his was older and more haggard, more faded and moth eaten with tears and clear re-stitching marks. In contrast, Bellamy's was slightly less haggard than both. He was a big man, and they had to use curtains and such to make his clothing, so his pants were patterned instead of plain and his shirts was not cotton but linen. His leather jerkin was possibly the most convincing thing about him. It was made from the patched together parts of over-worn saddles, and was quite the hopscotch piece of material.

"Alrighty men, are we a-ready to a-go." Clopin said, twirling a nicely-carved staff that one of the woodworkers had whittled for him for Christmas when he was a boy. Back then it had been large and heavy for him, but now it was perfect, and quite nice as a backup weapon if for some reason he lost his hidden daggers.

"Uh, Clopin?" said Bellamy.

"Yes?"

"Your earring." The big man replied uncertainly, indicating to his own ear where the gold hoop was notably missing. Clopin frowned, but knew Bellamy was right, and removed his own with a sad sigh.

"Oh get over it Clopin, it's only two days without it." Mailhairer said in a gruff voice.

"But I feel so naked without it." The Twisty King replied.

"In our experience, Clopin, you have no problem being naked." Bellamy joked, elbowing him lightly. They laughed together, then followed a hunched over and tense Mailhairer up the crumbly steps and through the crushed gates of the catacombs, to the tunnels beyond. They lit their torches and went through, towards the exit in the graveyard above.

Along the way, some of the skeletons on the side of the walls shifted and moved, then stood and came forward.

"Clopin?!" One of them said, removing the skull mask to reveal a mean set of teeth and thin eyes. He was the rat-tamer, Landers. "Bellamy? Mailhairer? Where are you going?"

"A little walk in the rain is all. We'll be back in two days." Clopin indicated for Landers to come closer, who leaned in. Clopin whispered in his ear, "And if anyone _unwelcome_ comes crawling down here, you know what to do." He made an indication of a materials wrapping around someone's neck, then stuck his tongue out, similar to the bloated head of a hanging corpse. Landers nodded once in understanding.

Clopin patted him on the shoulder, and said clearly to the rest, "Keep up the good work my friends. See you in a tick." He and his two other companions continued, but they had only reached a few dozen metres when a thought occurred to Clopin, and he had to quickly shuffle back to them and whisper again to Landers,

"Oh, and one more thing," he looked back to where he had left Mailhairer and Bellamy standing, making sure the older, ill-tempered man couldn't hear them. "Keep an eye on Shining Suzette for me eh? And if any other young men try to, let's say, woo her? Please tell them with a hint of force that she is _off the menu._ Got it?"

Landers smiled cruelly. "Suzette is yours. It'll be made clear."

"Good man." Clopin said with a shake of the hand, then caught up with his comrades for the journey.

* * *

At this time in the morning, no one came to the cemetery. The grass was grey with dew, and the sky was grey with coming or going rains, and the head-stones were grey and green with moss. This was the last of winter's clinging, struggling attempts at taking over the world, but by the time the festival came, it would be almost completely gone. Only puddles would remain, then onto summer. Clopin loved summer. There were more festivals, and the flowers grew bright while the sun lit the street and gave him energy. He wanted to bound around like a new-born calf. It was the time for dancing and flowers and parading atop towers and houses, using all of his power to balance on top of the thinnest of parapets.

But, he had to get through the end of winter first.

There were some frost patches on the brown grass around them, but the rising sun would soon melt that away. Bellamy and Clopin grunted as they slid the stone back into place which hid the entrance to the Court of Miracles. It grinded back into place snuggly, and Clopin dusted off his hands with a smile.

"Onwards! I hope this seller of yours is a friendly fellow." Clopin said to Mailhairer.

"No, he's not. That's why we don't usually go to him. He's cheaper, but the trip is too much trouble." Mailhairer replied grumpily, stamping out the flame of his torch.

"Oh, well maybe our visit will cheer him up. Who knows, maybe he likes jugglers."

"He hates gypsies." Was the deadpanned reply Clopin received.

"He's really not a happy chap, is he?" Clopin asked drolly. Mailhairer shook his head.

"He'll only take our money because he loves that more than he hates us. Come on, we need to get moving or my ears will freeze off, and your overgrown beak." The older man grumbled, and Bellamy shrugged at Clopin when he had turned away.

"My nose has character is all. He can't stand how much it suits me." Clopin replied with a returned shrug and a smile.

They went out the creaking gates of the cemetery, pulling their hats down low over their eyes. Clopin even tied his shoulder length hair up behind him to make it harder to recognize him. The townspeople never really saw him without his famed golden mask, but it wasn't good to take chances anyhow. Clopin liked to live life a little on the edge, mostly, but he also didn't want to waste time on this trip by being recognized and arrested as a wanted thief and suspected murderer.

The cold streets were almost deathly quiet, and only an ill-tempered goose noticed their passing, and announced their presence with quite a commotion as to which they had to run away from. The sun started to rise, and through the crack between the horizon and the clouds, it blazed a line across the city, attempting to blind Clopin, Bellamy and Mailhairer.

"Careful old man. Don't want the sun to improve your mood." Bellamy said softly, and he and Clopin sniggered quietly at Mailhairer's disapproving look.

"But he might take such a _shining_ to it." Clopin replied, trying not to giggle too hard at his own joke.

"Isn't that a _bright_ idea." Responded the muscle man.

"It would _light up_ his whole life." Clopin said, but neither of them could contain they're laughter much longer, and they laughed till their eyes watered and they resorted to holding their now aching sides as they sniggered and huffed their way out of town. With as little traffic on the side-walks as possible like there was today, it was only an hour out of town, and then on to where the farms and smaller villages sat amongst rocky hills and sweet watered creeks. They passed herds, which Clopin was tempted to scare and chase for the fun, but a single glance at Mailhairer's watching, knowing eyes was enough to dissuade him. The road was wide, and on the smoothest parts Clopin and Bellamy would practice tricks. Clopin would stand and walk on his hands for a little while, then Bellamy would pick him up and use him as a weight, rising and lowering a single arm with Clopin casually curled up in his large hand, watching the horizon go up and down against him, then swapped arms to keep the muscle strain balanced.

"If only we had brought one of the children to make this trip a little lighter." Clopin complained, after about two hours of them saying nothing.

"Children are slow, and require attention that we did not need on this trip." Mailhairer spat.

"But imagine how much the time would have gone faster." Bellamy replied. He was soon to be a father himself, and Clopin couldn't wait to be a new uncle to another one of the gypsy children. Bellamy's wife was a pretty picture, and could have sixteen hoops twirling on her arms, legs and torso at one time, and go for almost half an hour without one dropped. She was skilled with the ribbon as well, and the silks. Clopin was more of a pole person, but he found the silks were fun too, especially with a partner such as herself.

"For a father to be, and a man who spends a lot of time with children, you don't know much about them, do you?" Mailhairer said, amused, as if he was toying with them. Clopin tilted his head with a raised eyebrow, and saw Bellamy had done something similar.

"What do you mean Mailhairer? We know lots about children." He responded, jogging to catch up with the man who walked at least half a dozen feet in front of them at all times.

"Oh really? The struggles, too? Not just the playing in the mud or the puppet shows. The explaining why they can't play with other children, or why the big scary men in metal plate kick them away."

"I think you underestimate exactly _how much_ time I have spent with children, Mailhairer." Clopin said darkly. "I've had to tell Pomeroy why his mother is a lot younger than the other mothers, how that guard stole her away for the night. Latimer begged me to tell her why her brother is gone, run away from us because he couldn't take care of her and himself at the same time. Jacintha managed to get me to tell her why her eyes are deep blue and not brown, because I was _fifteen_ when Louis and I practically stole her from the orphanage. Bellamy helped me explain to Carulos why we have to dye his hair every week, and the other children don't have to."

Clopin's little speech must have taken Mailhairer by surprise, because he didn't say anything for a long time.

"Did your parents ever tell you how much of a trouble maker you were as a child, Clopin." He finally said.

Clopin nodded with a smile. "They liked to remind me of it."

"Well you were quite the brat. To our own people you were fine enough, but to anyone else, you were prepared to kick them in the shins if they so much as sneered at you. We almost got found by guards several times because of your home-made powder bombs that you would hide in their watch-towers, and only lit them at night when you could escape easier."  
 _  
I must make some more of those. I haven't done that in a few years,_ Clopin mentally said to himself, making a note that he would have to do it later, after the festival, when the knights and guards started making trouble again. That would remind them of who was boss of the Paris.

"Let me guess, Bellamy was a quiet kid." Clopin said, steering the conversation away from himself and smiled mischievously at his big friend.

"As a matter of fact he was, along with my Suzette. They only started making trouble when you started paying attention to them." Mailhairer grumbled.

Bellamy and Clopin laughed.

* * *

The sun rose, and floated across the sky, without so much as a wink through the clouds. When it grew darker, Clopin looked at the sky with a twisted mouth of uncertainty, as he lightly felt drops on his hand.

"Smells like a storm." Mailhairer commented, looking to the sky as well. Clopin was about to comment about how _he_ smelled like something far more unpleasant, but held his tongue and nodded agreement.

"Will this man let us stay the night in his barn?" Bellamy asked.

"I'm not sure. But I'm not as big as you nor as young as Clopin here, and I don't want to get sick. So, we'll hope, if it does us any good." Mailhairer kept them going, until they spotted a small white building on a sloping hill by the road, surrounded by birches and elms.

By then, Clopin and Bellamy were soaked. The rain had gone from a gentle patter to a whirling battering raging typhoon. The two younger men had given Mailhairer their cloaks. He had made a good point about not being physically in tip-top condition, and Clopin was certainly not going to take the old man home to his daughter sick.

She would probably throttle Clopin if he did.

"This man doesn't own this house. He lives in the back quarters and pays them weekly for staying here. It's a cheaper living and it means he isn't so expensive to buy from." Mailhairer explained as they stopped beneath a large tree.

"Hopefully the bastard doesn't charge us more because we're Gypsies." Bellamy said, his mood soured with the weather. Clopin may have loved summer, but he didn't mind the rain as much as Bellamy did.

"No. He's a crook, but he's not _that_ much of a crook."

They approached the back part of the house hurriedly, and knocked on the heavy wooden door loudly. There was a few long moments, and Clopin raised his cold fist to knock again, when the door opened slightly. Light brown, almost orange eyes, were peering through the crack between the door and the door-frame.

"What do you want?" The man asked in half a shout.

Mailhairer stepped forward. "I need to buy some metal off you."

"In the morning, Gypsy Mailhairer." Said the man, in the same tone as before. he went to close the door, when Clopin stuck the end of his staff in the opening.

"What do you think you're doing!?" The man yelled, and Clopin could have sworn it was like thunder.

"I only ask that we stay in the barn for the night, or the stables. Please, we don't know when the next house or inn is, and we don't want to get sick." He said. He hated saying please to people like this, but he wasn't stupid.

"That's not my problem, twig."

"It is if we use all our money on medicine, and not your metals."

The man glared.

But a minute later, Bellamy and Clopin were opening the doors to the barn and letting Mailhairer through, before closing it again.

"Quick thinking about the medicine there, Clopin." Bellamy said, slightly shuddering as he rubbed himself with muscled arms.

"Well he's not as bad as some people we come across, anyway." Clopin said, also rubbing his arms.

"He said we could use the fireplace in here, if we don't use too much wood." Mailhairer said, removing his cloaks. Clopin took off his bag, shirt and boots. It was cold, but he had to let them dry or he'd catch pneumonia. He found the wood and the fireplace, and started building a fire. Bellamy grabbed out the matches for him, and soon he had coaxed a warm enough flame onto the wood. Suzette and some of the others were better at making fires, but he knew the basics. He was determined to learn fire-dancing as well, to add to his skills. The more skills you had, the more money you could make.

Clopin undid his hair and shook it, trying to get the moisture out. Bellamy took his shirt off as well, and found some twine to make a make-shift clothes line. They ate some of the bread and cheese Clopin had brought, and he and Bellamy shared some cheap beer.

"Wine goes down better than this stuff." Bellamy said.

"I'm not one to complain about it. We're too good for wine anyway." Clopin said with a wink. He looked around, sipping his bottle, and saw that there were some horses at the far stalls.

"Hey, I didn't see them there before." Clopin said with a smile. He quite liked horses, maybe because they were useful, and beautiful at the same time. He stood and walked over to them, and patted each one in turn.  
 _  
I should have brought some apples, or maybe carrots._ Carrots he could have afforded, but unfortunately he rarely had the bother to buy apples. Clopin felt something move, and heard a small rustle. He looked around, wondering if there was a working dog too, or maybe some goats. He would have liked to see a goat, and think of the little Djali. But he saw nothing else, and shrugged. It must have been one of the horses shifting.

It was an hour before the three men were dry and warm, and another hour before they were ready for sleep. Clopin put his shirt and cloak back on, then pulled his flat-hat down over his eyes, and flopped back onto a straw pile.

"Goodnight sweethearts. Wake me if you have nightmares." He said lightly, in a sing song voice.  
"Like wise _twig._ " Bellamy replied with a laugh.  
"Shut up you two and go to sleep." Mailhairer snapped. Bellamy and Clopin rolled their eyes, then tucked back again, before the dying embers of the fire.

Clopin wasn't sure what woke him, but he knew immediately that it wasn't dawn, or anywhere near it. The rain was still going outside, yet not as strong.

Clopin was about to turn over and go back to sleep, but something moved. Clopin's eyes widened and he stayed perfectly still, trying to use what little light he could to see what it was.

It moved again, and Clopin saw it was near his bag. He watched, and saw it come closer. At first a shadow, then a dark form. It opened his bag and dug through. Clopin grew curious and annoyed at the same time, watching something, or somebody, go through his stuff. Their shuffling stopped, when they came across something in particular, and lifted it out of the bag. It was his gold earring.

Okay, _that_ was not alright.

Clopin tensed and leaned forward, quick as a snake, and snatched whatever it was gently by the scruff of the collar, still half lying down. It cried out and tried to run, but fell back and writhed where he held it. He dragged it back towards him and sat up.

"Well, well, what do we have here," he said with a sly smile, and turned it around. "Oh!" he exclaimed, when he saw it in the light of the dying embers.  
It was a girl, with raven-wing dark hair, and eyes as green as grass in spring.

"Well shit." He muttered.


	3. Chapter 3 Stolen Child, Stolen Heart

She stared at him, clearly frozen in fright, and all he did was blink at her. He heard Bellamy shift and mumble behind him.

"What's going on?" The muscle man grumbled. Clopin didn't dare take his eyes off the girl. She couldn't have been more than six years old.

"I just found this little snack going through my stuff," he said. She whimpered, and tried to scram free. "I'm not going to hurt you little one." He said in a hushed voice, and lessened his grip on her. He knew sometimes his lean, dark appearance was frightening to children when he wasn't wearing his jester clothes. She slipped from his finger and stepped back, but didn't run away. She was thin, in a hungry way, and all she wore was a white shirt which looked like it belonged to a much older person, as it went down to her knees, and the sleeves were cut at her elbows. It was as dirty as she was.

"I was only looking." She managed to say. She still had the earring in her hand.

"Then you won't mind giving it back, would you? I am very attached to that earring after all."

She looked at the gold in her hand, then quickly handed it back to him.

"Thank you, Cherie." He said, and for extra effect, put the earring in his ear again. She stared again.

"My god, Clopin, you better not be thinking what I think you're thinking." Bellamy growled behind him. "Mailhairer will kill you."

Clopin ignored him, and asked the girl, "Do you live here?"

She shrugged, and looked down at her feet.

"Is that your father in the house?"

She nodded, and started playing with the straw near her bare foot with her toe.

"Do you always stay out here?"

Another shrug. He smiled.

"Well then, we're sorry we intruded on your home. This is a grand palace you have."

She frowned, and looked at him. "I live in a barn."

"And we live in the Catacombs." Bellamy said, "You win."

A _tiny_ smile flickered on her lips, then she looked down at her feet again. "It's not my barn."

"Uhhh, but by squatters rights my dear, we're intruding on your home." Clopin said, crossing his legs more comfortably. "So, I'll ask you, are we please allowed to stay in your barn? It is frightfully unpleasant outside, you know. And we have an old man with us."

"But don't tell him we said that." Bellamy said quickly. The girl glanced behind Clopin, either to look at Bellamy or the sleeping Mailhairer. She scrunched her face up, and looked at Clopin's bag.

"Do you have any food?" she asked.

"Indeed we do, and we'll let you have a sip of our beer if you let us stay." Clopin said, with a twist of his fingers towards the bag.

"Clopin!" Bellamy gasped.

"Oh like you've never let the other children have a sip on occasion." Clopin said with an accusing smile. The girl giggled a little.

"As a matter of fact, no I haven't." the big man snapped back.

"You know for a muscle man, you're quite the softy." Clopin said, as he leaned over and grabbed his bag, pulling the beer bottle and the bread from it. "So what will it be, Cherie?" he asked the girl with a raised eyebrow. She bit her lip in a smile and nodded, then stepped closer to him. He snapped off a large bit of bread from his own  
ration, and handed it to her.

"Thank you," She said, and he smiled.

"You have good manners." He said, taking a bite of his bread as well. He didn't know why, but children seemed to trust you more if you ate the same thing as them. She smiled in return, but said no more. He uncorked the bottle next and let her shuffle forward a little more before he gave it to her. She even sat down, just inches from his legs. She took a sip, and instantly her face scrunched up. She swallowed, but then stuck her tongue out and said

"Urgh!"

Bellamy and Clopin both chuckled quietly, and he took the bottle back. "Here, I have water as well." He handed her the water skin, and she drank from that gladly, and sighed when the taste of the previous liquid was gone.

Clopin lowered his voice and leaned forward, putting a palm up next to his mouth and whispered,  
"If I show you a magic trick, will you show me around your palace?"

She pouted, but she seemed amused, then she nodded quickly, and stood. Clopin pulled a candle from his bag and lit it, then followed her as she ran down the barn.  
"These aren't my Papa's horses, but the owners let me pat and feed them." The girl said excitedly. "This one's Carolus, that's Addy, and that's Wiatt. Wiatt's the oldest, but he's calm."

Clopin followed her around the barn as she told him of where she liked to hide, to play, even where she slept, which was a bundle of blankets amongst straw.

"Papa lets me go inside to get food sometimes, but sometimes he gets mad when I ask for it." She said casually, then showed him up the ladder to the loft above.  
"I play up here sometimes, and I wish I could sleep here, but it gets colder than down there."

There was nothing up in the loft apart from straw bales. There was a flash of lightning from above, which came through the tiny cracks in the roof, but the girl didn't flinch.

"Aren't you scared of the lighting?" he asked, astounded. In his experience, all kids hated it. But she shook her head.

"I don't like thunder though. It sounds like the world is cracking."  
 _  
The world is always cracking, small one, just not in the way you think._

"Well, lucky for us there's no thunder tonight. At least I hope not." Personally, he liked storms. They were wild and unpredictable, which he liked. But he pretended he didn't, just for her. "But just to be safe, let's get back down, and I'll show you some tricks."

She smiled widely and nodded the same as before. They made their way down again, and made sure Mailhairer was sound asleep, before Clopin decided to show her what he could do. Clopin laid his cloak out near the horse's stalls, away from Mailhairer and Bellamy, who had also gone back to sleep.

Setting the candle aside, Clopin rubbed his hands together.

"Now, watch closely." He said, and with a flick of his wrists and a twist of his fingers, he produced a pink silk from 'thin air'. He had never been sure how magic worked, but he'd been taught at a young age, and he knew almost all the tricks now. Most people thought it was illusions and logic, and some was, but others…others were real, and could not be explained.

The girl gasped and clapped lightly.

"May I, Cherie?" he asked, indicating to her hair. She twisted where she sat, and let him tie her hair up with the cloth. Her hair was wavy and thick and so black it seemed almost blue. It was tangled too, but he could fix that soon. "I think pink is your colour." He said honesty. She picked up the tail of the cloth and rubbed it with her fingers gently.

"It's so soft." She said quietly. "Is there more, where you come from."

"Why yes!" he said, sitting back, and leaning on his arms. "My people don't wear black or grey or brown, usually. We love colour! Purples and pinks and blues, golds and reds and greens, oranges like the sunset, yellows like daisies."

"Your people?" She asked. Clopin bulked. He'd slipped dammit.

"Haha, well, you see, my two friends and I are actually gypsies." He said, waiting for her to cringe and run away.

"Really!?" She asked, her eyes lighting up and her mouth going so wide he wondered how much face she had left to hold it.

"Um, yes?" he asked, a little startled.

"Oh my mother always said gypsies are the best singers and dancers and story-tellers in the world." The she paused, and grew sour. "Father hates them though. He says you're thieves."

"Well, on my part that's at least a little true, to be fair. But most of the others are more honourable than me." He explained.

"Can you show me more tricks?" She asked, shuffling more forward. He pouted with a raised eyebrow at her, then shrugged with a smile.

"As Cherie commands."

He showed her coin tricks and card tricks, he read her palm future, (which was very promising, as a matter of fact), he tried to make a doll for her out of straw, he walked on his hands for her to see, and had her doing fantastic cartwheels in minutes, though not without a few falls that he had to soothe her from.  
They both grew very tired, and Clopin started looking longingly towards his own pile of straw. He had no idea what time it was, but it had been well over an hour, maybe two, since he'd met the little girl. And dawn was not close.

So maybe it was lucky, that there was a crack of thunder, and the rain started to pour heavily and bash against the walls. It had come so sudden that even Clopin jumped. The girl whimpered and stepped closer to Clopin, her hands becoming tiny fists and cuddling to her chest.

"It's okay Cherie," he said softly, kneeling. "I think it's time for bed now, yes?" He involuntarily yawned, and she yawned in response, then nodded, rubbing an eye.

"You can sleep next to me if you're scared." He said. She hesitated, but eventually nodded tiredly, and said,

"Yes please." In a whisper. He smiled, and took her by the hand as he led her towards his sleeping place. With a sigh like the first time he laid in the straw, he shifted into it until he was comfortable, and again pulled his hat down over his eyes with one arm tucked behind his head, and the other resting on his chest. He patted the straw next to him and said,

"You can sleep right here Cherie."

He felt the straw shift and heard her lay down next to his torso. A few minutes later, after another crack of thunder that went for ages, as he was starting to drift, she shifted a little closer, then closer until she was practically cuddled on top of his chest. He moved his arm from his chest and rested it on top of her shoulder comfortably.

There was one last thing he wanted to ask her before he went to sleep, he realised.

"What is your name, little palace girl?" he said.

"Esmeralda." She mumbled, almost asleep herself.

"Esmeralda," he said with a smile. "What a perfect gypsy name."

* * *

In the morning, Mailhairer stood and stared at the thin man who had a little girl sleeping on top of him.

"Let me guess." He said to Bellamy, who was gathering their things. "He found another poor little child who he is set on stealing away to the Court of Miracles."

"It looked like it last night. She's a smart little thing though." Bellamy answered, picking up Clopin's bag. "She only let us stay here on the account that we gave her food."

"You gave her food!" Mailhairer growled.

"Only Clopin's part." Bellamy said defensively.

"What do we know about her?" the old man asked, grabbing his own things.

"That she lives here in the barn and that she is practically starved by her father."

"She won't do much better with us." Mailhairer replied.

"We don't _starve_ the children, Mailhairer. That's why we go hungry most of the time, remember. They merely don't get as much as other children really."

"So you're supporting him in this decision?" Mailhairer asked.

Bellamy laughed, and indicated towards where the girl smiled in her sleep, and Clopin looked at peace. "Does it look like I'm in a position to tell him no?!"  
Mailhairer sighed, and resigned to the conversation to come.

* * *

"What about her father, hm? What do you think he'll say about us trying to take his daughter?" Mailhairer rasped harshly.

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him." Clopin whispered, tucking his earring back into his bag. "It's not like he'd notice her gone anyway."

"So you're going to kidnap her?"

"She's napping right now." Clopin responded cleverly, and ignored the gruesome stare that followed. "Listen Mailhairer, she's got a sparkle in her eye and a talent just waiting up her sleeve! She's one of us, and that's final."

"But Clopin-,"

"Nope! Not listening! Overruled. Conversation over. We're done. She's ours."

Mailhairer grumbled and turned away, stuffing his things away into his own bag, then slung it over his shoulder and went outside. Bellamy shook his head after where the old man was standing.

"He'll cool off. He has to. She almost looks like his Suzette."

"She's my Suzette as well," Clopin stated, then knelt beside the sleeping Esmeralda, who held onto his cloak which was wrapped around her like a blanket.

"Mon Cherie Esmeralda." He whispered, and nudged her shoulder slightly. It took a few more nudges and whispers before she licked her lips and opened her eyes.

"Bonjour, mademoiselle."

"Bonjour." She replied with a smile, sitting up.

"My friends and I are going to buy some things off your Papa, then we're leaving."

Immediately her eyes grew wide and her forehead scrunched up. Her lip started to tremble and she shook her head viciously.

"No, please. No, no."

"Hush now. Esmeralda, you can come with Clopin if you like. Me and my friends can take you to where the other gypsies live, and you can be one of us."

She sniffed, and rubbed her face like kids do. "Would you teach me tricks?"

"Even better than that, Cherie," Bellamy said behind Clopin, "We'll give you more food that your Papa does."

"Bellamy here is a strong man. He can teach you how to be strong too. And Mailhairer out there can make you a golden hoop just like mine." He brought out the hoop from his bag and put it in her small hand. She stared at it in wonder.

"Really?"

"Certainly. So, what will it be, Cherie?"

She jumped and hugged him around the neck, and he laughed, hugging her tight.

"But what about Papa?" she said, still holding onto him.

"We'll ask him of course, but you must stay hidden when we do." He winked at Bellamy as he lied, and the big man rolled his eyes and said,

"I want to get home as soon as possible, so can we go now please?"

"Right after we get that metal is all." Clopin said.

* * *

Figuring out how they were going to sneak Esmeralda away was tricky. Naturally Mailhairer wasn't any help at all, but Bellamy was the one who suggested that she run and hide behind the trees closest to the road, and they would grab her just as they were leaving, and walk with her hidden in Clopin's cloak. They told Esmeralda they had to hide her to protect her from other people, like road brigands, that's why she had to hide behind the trees.

"And once you see us on the road, you can run out from the trees, and we'll take you to a magical place called the Court of Miracles."

"The Port of Mirror balls?"

He laughed. "No La Esmeralda, The Court of Miracles. And once you go in, you must never ever tell anyone where it is, or people like your father might come and take us away."

"Take us away? Why?"

He sighed sadly. "Because there are more people like your father than there are like your mother."

She nodded.

They then had to deal with their father. An hour after sunrise, when the last of the clouds was gone and there was a patch of sunlight, they listened at his door for movement, and clearly heard him working somewhere inside.

Mailhairer knocked, and Clopin and Bellamy stepped back, neither of them too keen to see the grumpy man with angry orange eyes.

Again, there was a few moments before the door was opened. This time it wasn't a crack, but opened the full way.

He couldn't be any taller than Clopin, but he was grouchy looking and had grey in brown hair. He was stocky, like a boar, and had a great beard and moustache the same greying brown as his hair.

"Mailhairer," he grumbled.

"Kalman." Mailhairer replied, matching his tone. "I'm just in need of some metals. Brass, copper, light steel, sterling silver, the usual."

Kalman grunted back, then stepped back and indicated for them to come in. Mailhairer went in, but the other two happily stayed outside. It was only a few minutes until grumpy men exited the house.

"That's enough for two weeks I'd say." Mailhairer said. "Thank you Kalman."

"Don't mention it." Kalman said simply, and then the door shut heavily.

"Charming man." Clopin said with a grin, then skipped down the path towards the road, humming the tune to a song he was trying to put together himself about the Feast of Fools.

He waited at the road for Mailhairer and Bellamy to catch up, then they went further down the road.

Clopin looked back and forth across the road, and glanced back at the farmhouse to check for people. Then he jumped atop the perimeter wall to the property, and gave a large whistle.

She ran from the trees like she was being hunted, and he dropped down to her side of the wall, and waited till she reached his arms, then tossed her over the wall into Bellamy's arms, and jumped back over himself.

She grabbed onto his leg with a giggle, and he patted her head before wrapping his cloak around his shoulders and hiding her from view.

"Clopin, this better not get us killed." Mailhairer said.

"Don't be so glum, you might make it rain again, and Esme here doesn't like thunder."

"I'm not very fond of it myself, Cherie Esmeralda." Bellamy said, and Clopin could have kissed the man right then.

"On to home then." Clopin said, and they began the long walk back.

* * *

It was a strange luck charm, having Esmeralda with them. It didn't rain, and the girl didn't complain once. When they got a fair few miles away from the house, they deemed it safe for her to come out from her hiding place beneath his cloak. She laughed loud and ran out, squealing. She was barefoot and was still only wearing the over-sized shirt, but she looked happier than any child Clopin had seen. He handed his bag to Bellamy, and started chasing her through the fields they came across, jumping over rocks and splashing in puddles. They find a wonderful patch of mud off the side of the road, and got even filthier than they already were, throwing mud at each other and rolling in it until Mailhairer pulled Clopin out by the ear, while Esmeralda followed, laughing at him grumble and whine at the cruel treatment.

When Mailhairer finally let go, Clopin rubbed his ear and said,  
"You shouldn't treat your King like that." He only used this on people like Mailhairer.

"You shouldn't act like a child then."

"But it's my _job!_ "

"Shut up Trouillefou."

Esmeralda giggled, so Clopin swooped in and picked her up, putting her on his shoulders.

"Clopin?" She said.

"Yes, Esme?" he responded, taking his hat off and handing it to Bellamy as well, so he could put it in the bag.

"Why are you king?"

"Oh here we go." Bellamy said with a laugh.

"You'll see why, when we get home." Clopin said. It was no use explaining it, when he wasn't sure how he was, himself.

"Home. Where _is_ home?"

"My little Cherie, La Esmeralda, our home is in Paris!" Clopin said with a twirl.

"Paris!" She squealed.

"Paris." Bellamy confirmed.

"We live in Paris!" She yelled excitedly, and Clopin couldn't help start to love this girl.  
 _  
Besides, I've always wanted a little sister._


	4. Chapter 4 Not Without Incident

_Hey guys, just making a side note that anything about the structure of guard housing and such in this chapter is probably not historically accurate, i just needed it to be that way for the fun part at the end *wink wink*  
_

* * *

The trip was not completely without incident however, as much as they wished it would be. Several hours after they had escaped from the Farmhouse with their captured Esmeralda, Clopin heard something behind them. On a sunnier day, maybe he wouldn't have, but the coming overcast made the sound carry further.

"It sounds like, a carriage?" Bellamy said.

"Don't be a fool. No Carriage driver would move that fast." Mailhairer said, looking behind them as well.

"Riders!" Clopin gasped.

They couldn't see them yet, but it was apparent now that it was indeed, riders.

"We have to hide her!" Clopin said hastily, looking around for a shrub, or a patch of forest. There was some maybe half a mile away, but he wasn't sure if they would make it there in time. The hills around them made it hard to know just which bend the riders were around. But the lack of forest was made up by the height of the grasses around them, which was just taller than Clopin's waist.

"The decline. We'll hide her right under their noses!" Mailhairer said, but he didn't look at all happy about the situation.

"What do you mean!?" Clopin said. Mailhairer rolled his eyes with a growl, and then grabbed Esmeralda by the wrist, but gently enough not to scare her. Then he started walking off the road, to where it dropped a little in the side of the hill. "Go further into the grass, but not too far." He told her. "Then lie down in a ball and stay very still."  
Esmeralda looked at him in fear, then looked at Clopin.

"Go! Otherwise they'll take you back there." He said to her. She nodded, and disappeared into the grass. She was still small enough that she didn't disturb the grass enough to see a trail to where she would be.

"Wait, her footsteps!" Bellamy said, and looked around just as Clopin did. But there must have been more traffic on the roads than they had first thought, or the path was too gravelly to distinguish anything realistically.

"If they're just guards or soldiers without a ranger with them, they'll be blind as bats to it." Clopin said.

"We should pretend we're resting, then they'll be even more thrown off." Bellamy suggested.

"He makes a good point." Mailhairer agreed, and they quickly wandered to the opposite side of the road where Esmeralda was hiding. They shuffled up the incline of the hill, and found some stones protruding from the earth to sit on, and quickly brought out their food and water skins, laying them out quickly on the rocks.

It was a minute or two before the riders finally appeared on their hill, and by then Clopin, Bellamy and Mailhairer had calmed themselves, prepared to spin some pretty lies. When the approaching figures spotted the three men up from the path, they slowed, and stopped below them.

It was soldiers, two of them atop war coursers, lightly armoured. One was handsome, light brown hair that went past his shoulders and a well-built face, while the other looked like a Jaguar. Dark of skin and eyes with short-cropped hair, and was immediately suspicious of them.

"Bonjour!" Bellamy called to them.

"Bonjour." The handsome one replied curtly. "I'm sorry to disturb your meal, but we're going to have to ask you to get down here."

"Whatever for?" Clopin asked.

"We're looking for three Gypsy men who have kidnapped a craftsmen's daughter. Are any of you Monsieur Mailhairer?" said the jaguar.

"I am." Replied the owner of the name, but with a frown and cock of his head. "Kalman can't seriously think we took his daughter? I didn't even know he had one, and I've bought from him on other occasions."

"He's convinced you took her. Now get down here, Gypsies." Spat the handsome one.

Together the men sighed, and stood to make their way down, Clopin giving his staff to Mailhairer, who immediately took the role of a frail old man. Clopin tried to look weak, like people usually assumed about his thin form, and hunched his head slightly. Bellamy tried to look less bright, but moving his eyes around a lot and slightly swaying when they reached the road.

"What wrong with that one?" asked the jaguar, nodding towards Bellamy. Neither soldier got off his horse.

"Simple but strong." Clopin responded, twisting his mouth unpleasantly, though secretly he was trying not to laugh at how ridiculous Bellamy looked.

The handsome one snorted and shook his head with a smirk.  
"Now, where is she?" he asked sternly.

"Why would we take a girl?" Clopin asked.

"Gypsies use them for all sorts of unpleasant entertainments." Replied the jaguar.

"Know many Gypsies, do you?" Mailhairer asked, and only received a glare. "Believe me, my good men, we have no idea where she is. We never even saw her. We slept in the barn, and our business with Kalman was short. We left several hours ago."

"Maybe you need some convincing to talk." Then the handsome soldier kicked out with a metal boot and caught Mailhairer in the chest, sending the old man backwards. Clopin managed to catch him by the underarms before he hit the ground. He threw his head up and yelled,

"Leave us alone! We know nothing!"

"Then where's the girl?"

"How do you even know the girl _exists!?_ Kalman would use anything to get a pair of soldiers on our tail."

He saw the Jaguar soldier cock his head in consideration. "Look. The girl's not here, if she exists or not."

Bellamy kneeled slowly next to where Mailhairer was sitting below Clopin's legs, panting and grabbing at his chest.  
"Mailhairer hurt." He said simply.

"Bastards." Clopin growled at the shining men.

The cruellest of the two held up a pointed finger. "Watch it gypsy. We'll let you go, but barely."

Clopin could have easily avoided the kick that came, that's how predictable it was, but he had to take the full blow to satisfy them, and make them go away.  
It hurt, a lot. The boot caught him in the side of the head and sent him to the ground, yelling in pain. He didn't even hear them ride away, because his head was ringing and he had to keep his eyes shut against the pain. His teeth were gritted and his lips pulled back in a snarl as he gripped his head.

"Soldiers." He groaned.

"You brought this on us Clopin. Don't complain." Mailhairer said, fully recovered from the blow he received.  
 _  
Is afraid to catch a cold, but he can take a kick to the chest?_ Clopin thought with a twisted smile.

Clopin pushed himself up to sitting position, his left arm keeping him upright, while still rubbing his head.

"He cut you." Bellamy said, bending down to remove Clopin's hand and look. "It won't need stitches, but we'll clean it anyway."

"We best get off the road first, before his pals decide to join the party." Clopin said, and gripped onto Bellamy's outstretched arm to help him get up. His head swam for a moment as he stood, but a few blinks later and he felt better.

They made their way back up to gather their possessions, poured some water on Clopin's cut, then went down again to look for the trouble maker.

It didn't take long. As soon as they got to the edge of the field, there was a flash of pink and black as she leaped from the grass, and suddenly Clopin's legs were being hugged by her.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry. I wanted to help but.. but.." She started sobbing gently, and Clopin clicked his tongue as he knelt and hugged her.

"No Esme. It was good you stayed hidden, or we would have been a lot worse off. This is only a scratch. You were a good girl."

"Why is my Papa looking for me, if you asked him to take me?" the girl said, rubbing her eyes.

He gulped. "He might have changed his mind. But it's too late for that now. I promised you we'd take you home."

"Home," she copied, like before. He took her hand, and they kept going.

* * *

The day grew and then aged, fading just as they reached the edge of Paris.

"We should take on of the back entrances in." Mailhairer said, seeing that there was still people still going about their business. Clopin tied his hair back like before while watching.

"But where's the fun in that? Mon Cherie has never seen Paris before. She at least deserves a taste before the festival."

Mailhairer shook his head. "It's a bad idea, Trouillefou."

"Well then you and Bellamy go down, and I'll show her around for a few minutes, then take the canal way in. We'll be quick as shadows!"  
Bellamy gave a smile and shrugged at Mailhairer. Esmeralda was sitting on his muscular shoulder like a small cat, watching the conversation while chewing on a finger-nail.

"He does what he wants, Mailhairer." He said.

"Fine." The older gentleman spat, then walked in the direction of one of the many back entrances. Clopin reached up and grabbed Esmeralda around the waist, lifting her off Bellamy's shoulder, and sitting her on his hip.

"At least be careful Clopin." Said his friend.

"I swear we'll be right behind you." Clopin reassured, then he put Esmeralda down and started walking towards the streets of the city.

At first there was just houses, and Clopin pointed out the ones of informers he got information from. They were the key to staying out of the clutches of the evil Frollo.

He told her of how the old Priest wanted all Gypsies exterminated or banished, and pointed to the Church of Notre Dame.

"Six years ago, he threw a woman down while in pursuit and accidently killed her on the very steps of our Notre Dame, and was straddled with the child she was carrying to make up for the blood he had spilled." He said.

"Have you ever seen it?" Esmeralda asked. He picked her up and put her on his back, to jump across some of the larger puddles.

"The child? No. Frollo keeps him locked up in the bell tower, because it's said he's hideously ugly."

The girl frowned. "That's mean."

Clopin nodded once. "He's a cruel man. If you ever see him, hide, you hear?"

"Yes." She said.

From there, he showed her the river, and some of the parks, and climbed trees with her while counting stars.

When she started to yawn, and Clopin could feel his weariness grow as well from the trip, he suggested that he finally take her home.

"Paris is wonderful." She said dreamily, though she half-yawned at the same time she said it.

"It is, Cherie Esme. It's sad we have to live underneath it."

He carried her the whole way out to the canal, and, hiding from some night patrol guards, opened the grating which led to the tunnels to the Court of Miracles.

"Remember what I said about showing anyone the way in?" he asked, as he pulled the grating closed behind them.

"To not show anyone?" She said, her head tilted. He smiled and rubbed the top of her head affectionately.

"Very good."

He lit a torch from his bag and took them deep into the gloom beneath the city of Paris.

"Eww, it smells funny." Esmeralda laughed, while grabbing her nose.

"It's not as bad where we stay." He replied with his own snigger, and put a hand on her shoulder as he led her in. It was many turns and twists before they started seeing skeletons, and many more bends and twists before one them came alive.

Esme gave a scream and hid her face in Clopin's leg when she saw the skeleton move. She held on even tighter as it laughed.

"So, Mailhairer wasn't pulling our leg bones, you really did rescue another one didn't you?" it asked, and pulled the skeletal mask away to reveal a great moustache and a few gold teeth set into a hard face.

"He's not going to hurt you Esme." Clopin said, sounding as friendly as he could. "He just watches for unfriendly people who try to get in to our home."  
She didn't look at first, but then slowly turned her face away from his leg and looked at the man. He sat down on the cold floor in front of her, and removed his skeleton gloves, and held out one of his hands.

"I'm sorry if I scared you, little one." He said. "I'm really not that bad."

"He's one of our repair men, Esme." Clopin explained. She looked up at him uncertainly, and back at the man. "Go on, he won't bite."

Esmeralda stepped away from him, letting go of his leg, and putting her tiny hand in the scouts huge, calloused ones.

"Ohhhh my, you will be a stunning picture, won't you Cherie?" he said. "A dancer for sure."

"You read my mind." Clopin said, leaning back against the wall, with a fist on his hip.

"Who do you plan giving her to?" he asked, and Esme suddenly pulled her hand away, stepping back.

"It's okay little one." Clopin said. "I'm taking her in myself, Monsieur."

"You always should have had a younger sister." The man agreed with a smile. Esmeralda, assured that she wasn't in any danger of being handed over to anyone else, relaxed again.

"Come along Esme, it's past any one's respectable bed time." Clopin said, and held out a hand. She took it, and waved goodbye to the scout with a toothy smile.

The camp was quiet when they entered. Barely any shadow stirred as they weaved their way through stalls and tents and past work benches or clothes lines. The roof of the catacombs was high, high above their heads, and you could have been fooled into thinking it was the night sky directly above them. Sometimes Clopin would catch fireflies in their mating season and release them here, so that they glowed at night.

"Where is everyone?" she asked in a whisper.

"Asleep in their tents. We'll be soon as well. In the morning, I'll take you up to the square and we can have a wash. And we'll get you some real clothes."

"Will they be like yours?"

"God heavens no. We'll give you real gypsy colours. I think white and green would suit you." Clopin yawned, then licked his lips as his eyes drooped. "but that's for the morning."

He was surprised to find a small warm light coming from his tent when they reached it.

"Wait here." He said to Esmeralda, the went inside alone to see who the company was.

Suzette was asleep on his mattress, wearing clothes, to Clopin's gratefulness. He shook her shoulder softly, and she awoke immediately.

"Clopin!" She said softly with a smile. He kissed her, then said,

"I'm not sure if your father told you, but-,"

"You brought back a little girl. He did." She crawled out of his bed. "Come on, show her to me!" She said, too excited than any person who just woke up ought to have been. He smiled, and kissed her softly again, then opened his tent door again and said,

"You can come in Esme."

She entered tentatively, like a wary kitten, that some of the other children would adopt and train to do tricks.

Suzette practically gasped.  
"God, she's gorgeous."

Clopin went down onto one knee in front of his little prize.  
"Esme, this is Suzette."

Esmeralda stared at the woman, then smiled. She whispered to Clopin,  
"She's pretty."

Clopin laughed quietly, and whispered back, "Yes, she is isn't she?"

"I've got something for you, little one." Suzette said, then went over to one of Clopin's chests and brought out something from within.  
It was a simple dress of green, clearly temporary, but it was far better than what the girl was wearing at the moment. Esmeralda stared at it.

"That's…for me?" She asked quietly.

Suzette nodded. "I brought a bucket of water for you too, to clean you up."

"You thought far ahead of me, my darling." Clopin said with a quiet chuckle.

"Of course I did. I'm a woman. Come here, we'll get you cleaned up. Then it's your turn Clopin." She said.

Suzette took Esmeralda behind some curtain's, and there was the quiet sounds of dripping water and Esmeralda's giggles and comments on how cold the water was.  
Clopin listened fondly as he removed his own clothes until he was back into his purple stockings and a loose cotton long-sleeved shirt. He usually wore the matching purple and blue shirt and short-cloak in the day, but he couldn't be bothered finding them in the arrayed arrangement of his tent. These had been sitting on his bed already, another favour by Suzette he suspected.

When the two girls emerged again, Esmeralda looked a lot cleaner, and her hair shone after thorough drying. Suzette had re-tied the pink ribbon into her hair.  
"You're turn." Suzette told him. He went behind the curtain, removed his clothes again and washed himself down as much as he could. When he made his way out again, with his pants and shirt on, Esmeralda and Suzette were already asleep on his bed.

He sighed happily, and his heart warmed when he saw Esmeralda holding his gold earring in her tiny, delicate hand. He carefully pried it from her fingers and put it in his left ear, where it belonged. He found space on the bed beside Esmeralda, which huddled her between him and Suzette.

He blew out the candle, and whispered to them,

"Sweet dreams."

A tiny voice responded. "Goodnight." Esmeralda giggled to herself, and he poked her gently with a smile, then wrapped his arms around her and Suzette, and within moments was asleep.

_ _3 years later_ _

Blue early morning light came through the grate openings high in the roof above the Gypsy camp, hidden beneath the city. The bells of Notre Dame had not yelled tolled for the morning to wake up the residents, and few people were awake. But one soul was lividly bright eyed this morning, and crawled out of her tent, and creeped towards another's tent, much larger than her own. Inside, there was masks hanging on racks, cloth and clothing thrown onto benches or over chests. Thick linen covered thin wooden boards to keep the moisture below, and she had to creep very carefully to not make a sound.

At the furthest side of the tent was a small bed, with more bits of wood underneath to keep it even high off the ground to be extra sure to keep it from ruining the mattress. A figure was laid out among some light blankets, and above their head hung a large purple hat with a huge yellow feather sticking from it.

The girl sneered mischievously and tip-toed up to the bed.  
Clopin was lying on his side with his head resting on his upper arm, while his forearm and hand rested strangely upwards. There was no Suzette with him this time, but she was there as often as not. The weather had gotten warmer, so he didn't wear a shirt, and there were some small scars on his sides and arms in his tan skin from arrows and lances narrowly missing him. Esmeralda had seen him dodge them like a dancer on moonlight, smiling as he did so.

She crawled up to his side, and whispered near his ear that had a shining gold ring in it,  
"Clopin. Psst."

When he didn't move, she crawled up until she was hands and knees on his rib-cage.  
"Clopin! Wake up, wake up, wake up!" she shoved him every time she said it, and he started moaning in his sleep from the disturbance.

"Esme, go back to sleep." He muttered, shifting his arm, only slightly opening his eye. She sighed, and flopped onto her back on top of him.

"I just can't. Djali's awake, so I'm awake, so we have to play!" she said dramatically.

"Go play with Djali then!" Clopin said, amused, and gently elbowed her off him and back onto the floor. She landed on her bottom with a 'humph'.

She pouted, thinking, then gasped as an idea came to her. She crawled back up onto his side, much to his muttered annoyance, and then opened his left eye against his will.

The she said in a sing song voice, "Do you wanna make some flash bombs?"

He smiled, and opened his eyes, looking at her knowingly.

She giggled, and jumped off as Clopin grabbed his purple shirt and short-cloak, put on his hat and gloves, then raced outside with Esmeralda leading him by the hand. They went to Apothecary's cart, who not only made medicines and potions, but was wonderful at making the powders they used in acts for all sorts of things, from disappearing on stage, to changing the colours of fire.

She had a lock on the cabinet which held the most explosive ones, but Clopin knew where she stashed the key, and had it opened in no time. Grabbing a few small canisters, some twine and a few of the powders, they locked the cabinet again, and giggled in the morning light as they ran to one of their favourite hiding places in the catacombs.

This hiding spot had a smaller grate above them, which let in the light from outside, and was perfect to make the flash-bombs. Using a torch like they normally do in the tunnels was dangerous when working with these powders.

Esmeralda watched carefully as Clopin measured out the powders and poured the correct amount into the wooden canisters, then carved a small hole into each of the canister lids with a dagger he kept at his side. The hole was only big enough to fit the twine in and not spill any of the powder inside. The lids took a bit of forcing to get on; they were designed so that medicinal powders and such didn't fall out, which made them perfect.

Clopin hadn't done this for a few months, because it did cost the Apothecary cart in supplies, but he'd find a way to pay her back. Besides, the soldiers had turned nasty again once the Feast of Fools had ended several months ago. It had been Esmeralda's third Feat of Fools, and she was bringing home more money with each year. She was nine, but already good with ribbons and a smooth dancer. Clopin didn't want her doing too much acrobatics at this point in her life because she was still growing, and it could hurt her, but her simplest movements were enough to make the women take a liking to her and the men appreciate the skill. She and the other children had been teaching Djali to dance as well, and he practically followed Esme everywhere.

"That should do it." Clopin said, fixing the lid on the fourth and last one.

"Where are we going to put them this time?" Esmeralda asked.

"Hmm," Clopin put a finger to his lips as he thought. "Oh, I know!" he said with a snap of his gloved fingers. "Their sleeping quarters! It'll be a lovely bonjour to them." He said. You'd think at 21 that he would have matured a little, but you'd be wrong.

Esmeralda laughed, and that was all the confirmation he needed. He stashed the canisters into a hidden pocket of his clothes, then led Esmeralda out of the tunnels.  
It was hard moving the cemetery stone on his own. He was strong, but not _that_ strong, and the lack of Bellamy to help was a regrettable move. But he managed, and put it back into place. Panting, he then looked around to make absolutely sure that there was no one else around, and the two like thieves snuck from the cemetery and slithered through the shadowy, stony streets of Paris. They avoided any geese of the houses, and quickly hid as some tired and bored guards rode their way past on tired and bored horses.

It was easy getting to the guard house, especially with the lack of guards it had. For who would dare attack the guards themselves? In their own housing, so close to the rich part of town?

Well, two trouble-making Gypsies of course, but they didn't know that.

Clopin unlocked a window high above the street with his knife which led to the corridors of the housing where the guards slept, were fed and trained. It creaked a little as he opened it, and he paused, and looked alarmingly to where Esmeralda was. She had heard it to, and quickly hid behind a wall.  
 _  
Good girl. She's learnt so much._

He waited, but then nodded to himself that it was safe, and peered inside the window, side to side. They had to move quickly, in case someone was up and about at this time of morning. He waved Esme over, and she ran quickly to him, then scrambled up the side of the wall, sometimes needing to jump to get to hand-holds. No normal person could have made the climb, but luckily Gypsies were workers of magic, and Esme still had small enough hands to grab onto things that adults normally wouldn't be able to.

Clopin grabbed her arm in a monkey grip, and lowered her inside the corridor, jumping in after her with a somersault. Sticking to the sides, they made their way to the heavy wooden doors of the rooms where the guards slept three or four to a large room. These weren't locked thankfully, and Clopin just had to move the iron bars and pull it open enough to let Esmeralda in with one of the bombs in hand, and then they moved onto the next rooms and did the same. The twine they had used was long, so they lit each one, and still had enough time to close the doors, run out into the corridor and climb back through the window.

They were down in the street and hiding behind a chicken coop when the first one finally went off. They could hear it from where they were, and the bang was followed by three more in perfect intervals. There was shouting and bells ringing, as Clopin and Esmeralda laughed and laughed until they were rolling on the ground, struggling to breath.

"We should get back, before we get found." Clopin wheezed, rubbing his eyes from tears of laughter, his cheeks hurting from grinning so much.

When they returned home, the sun was starting to come up, and Clopin was quickly found by the Apothecary who grabbed him by the hair and hit him with a spoon several times with a strange brutality for someone who made things to _heal_ injury. She was about to do the same to Esmeralda, but Clopin stopped her.

"Leave her, it was all me." He said, trying not to smile despite the multiple bruises.

"You owe me all that equipment back Trouillefou!" she screeched, then turned away from them.

When news got out that there had been an attack on several guards, and that some of them would never see properly again, all the gypsies looked at Clopin. He had to hide Esmeralda with Suzette for a little while, as the worst tempered ones yelled at him about lack of responsibility and putting their people in worse danger, and he had to dodge a few slaps. He had taken the spoon attack by the Apothecary because he _had_ taken her resources, but he wasn't willing to take anything from anyone else.  
But as many who were mad at him for it, there were even more who clapped him on the back and laughed about it, giving him winks of approval. He would tell _these_ ones that it had all been Esmeralda's idea, and as a result, she got a few treats from people like Landers, who gave her a chocolate he had been saving for himself, but said she deserved it. She had said she didn't want to take his treat if he'd been saving it, and in the end they shared it.

Even weeks after, the guards were either more cruel or more wary of the Gypsies, and no matter how many that attempted to arrest Clopin as he played the mandolin in the street as Esmeralda danced, or how many who would even manage to knock him into walls before he slipped away, he would have done it all again just to see his little Esme laugh like the day they had done it.


End file.
